4 posts tagged “christmas”

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Photo Gifts

My mom pulled a classic gift gag this year, by buying us picture frames filled with home-printed photos. Except, her frugality made the entire enterprise an insult. Let me explain.


First, she must have picked up these picture frames in bulk someplace. They are the roughest (read: splinters in my hands) Mexican-made frames I ever did see. And what did she put inside?


For me, she includes a (bad) photo of the three of us from our summer vacation. "That was the only photo with just you, your dad, and I." "Yeah, mom," I thought to myself, "the whole point was to meet your extended family there... just the three of us together seems like you're wishing we were still separate."


Whatever.


For X, she printed a photo of him and his parents. For some reason, they looked like American Indians. What was wrong? Upon further inspection, everything was dark, and especially, red. In my photo, my mother's white blouse was pink. There was something weird going on in these home-printed photos.


Upon close scrutiny, we noticed that the ink was pooled-up for some colors (like black), and splochy and shiny/dull in others. My assessment is that the printer she has (HP) and the paper (Kodak) were not compatible. She needed to match the better paper with her printer. But, she gifted us these lackluster photos that I took, printed to laughable quality.


One rule of thumb about gifting: don't let people notice the bad quality.


So, with splinters in hand, and determination in my mind, we re-printed photos to go into the frames. Mind you, we didn't use all the same photos. X demanded the same one, so I complied, since I did feel it was a good photo. But for mine, I instead selected one of him and me, which when completed, looked like "real" photos using my Canon photo printer.


When I took out the one glass, I realized it was filthy. Yes, my mother neglected to wash-off the spotted and grimy glass. Who knows how it got so nasty. Now, our finished products look good, despite the cheap frames. But this little gift now will cost me another $22, to replace the ink cartridges spent in re-printing the gifted photos.

Post a comment Tags: christmas, gifts, parents, holidays

Let's Bring Wine

On December 23, my partner's bosses invited us to their home for dinner. They graciously invited my parents, as well, to join us. While we had already arranged gifts to present them upon arrival, my father objected to bringing nothing, and demanded I show him a wine store so he and my mother could bring wine.

"If we must. But I will choose the wine."

So we find the wine store, and go inside. I knew "Polish" was the menu theme, so I tried to choose a neutral wine. I chose a Gewürztraminer. Like the wine my dad was eyeing, it was $20. He paid, trying first to use his Discover card, then finally with his Visa.

We got lost finding their house. This added drama and tension to the car ride. My father had driven around some rocks, and they were "kicking up" and banging the underside of his precious Cadillac. he kept cursing the stones, bitching, if you will, about the scuffs and scrapes he was enduring on these "country roads."

Upon arrival, we were served appetizers, and presented the wine. Midway through eating in the living room, the hostess came in and asked for my assistance in opening my father's wine offering. "I am not sure what's wrong, but could you help me? I cant' seem to get this bottle opened!"

I examined the bottle top, and the screwpull. As I pulled it out, I discovered why there was a problem. She had assumed this bottle had a cork, but it did not. A simple twist of the cap, and the wine was opened. I showed my father, who became flush, and said outloud, my name... "J--- --- are you kidding me?" as he laughed. I threw the cap at him, and went into the kitchen to bring the hostess the wine. I had hoped to escape the embarrassment of bringing a corkless bottle.

My father, meanwhile, fished around in their collection of corks in the dining room. He found one and put it in his pocket. While the hostess did ask about the wine--I refused to answer why there was a problem. The dinner went swimmingly well, and then after they were cleaning up, he shows me the cork. "Here, go put this on the table.. they'll think it belongs with our bottle."

"I will not! It's already empty!"

They returned, and it seemed our secret might remain ours. But my dad left that night with both the cork and the bottle cap. Incidentally, it was tasty wine.
Post a comment Tags: dinner, christmas, holidays

Let's Go to Church

This is the first, in what may be several tales dedicated to my parents' visit to town for Christmas. 


And so, we start with Christmas Eve, not the first opportunity for sharing what transpired, but, as will find out, a memorable one, despite what we might hope to remember years from now.

My parents are not religious in that sense of the word that would prescribe frequent visits to church, or signing letters with Biblical verses. I am guessing my parents, put together, couldn't name but 6 books of the Bible. My mother, who now wears crosses around her neck, used to be Presbyterian. Since she left my home town, and moved to Florida, however, she hasn't seen the inside of a church. My dad, who for some reason buys my mother all of these cross-necklaces, is Catholic, and attends church once a year, if not less frequently.

And so, I announced on the eve of Christmas, at the advice of my pagan, nee communist, or perhaps half-Agnostic, half-athiest Chinese partner, to go to church. "Let's go to a local church." "Can we go Presbyterian?" "Hey, let's go someplace close, around here... what do you suggest?"

No, no, no. I chose the downtown Episcopal church. For one, I have been to many concerts there and it's a nice church. For two, I figure the Anglicans are half protestant and half Catholic, so my parents should find a happy medium there. Going downtown to church is an event. But not one that my father would warm up to anytime in getting there.

He was mad to start, as we had to leave shortly after dinner. The service began at 10 PM. It was 9:26 and we pulled out of the driveway. "Where are we going?" my mom asked us. "To church," I replied, not saying a word that it would take 35 minutes to get there.

When I later pulled onto the highway, my dad began to voice concern. "J--I think we passed like 4 churches to get to the highway... where are we going?"

"Downtown."

"Where? Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you? Why are we going all the way downtown for church?"

I ignored him, and searched for holiday carols on the radio.

Next, my mom chimed in. "J-we'd be happy enough going to a service close to home... aren't there any Presbyterian churches near home?" "Yes," I replied, "but we're going to the Episcopal church... sit tight."

The second reason I chose the downtown church was so my parents could see the "grand illumination" that takes place, where all the buildings are lit up for the holidays.

When we got to the city, my dad was cursing some more. "Do you see the lights?" X asked my dad. "The only thing I see down here is black people."

"Dad!" I shouted, protesting his seemingly racist remark.

"It's true, look left, look right, all that's down in this city are blacks."

As I turned a corner, he added, "I bet we're the only caucasians in the church tonight... "

When we pulled into the garage for the church, he was mad. "I hope we don't get mugged down here, tonight... god damn, this is the most lousy place to have a church."

My dad doesn't like being out of control, to have others dictate his location or whereabouts. I enjoy the challenge of introducing this slight discomfort, but even tonight, it was too rich to tolerate. We got into an elevator, and rose up into the church. "This place is empty..." he said.

We were early, and the carol singing started soon. As we entered the sanctuary, there were 4-5 African American families in the church already. I had hoped some caucasian people would enter, to prove my father wrong.

The service was something neither of my parents expected. My dad soon warmed up to things, as my mother grew weary, to learn it would be a 2-hour Christmas Eve service. My father went for communion. My mother kept looking at the 6 pages of the bulletin rolling her eyes. While complaints about the time followed into the ride home by car, I think both of my parents were better off for going downtown, experiencing something new, and learning that downtown wasn't all "black" and "robbers." 

Christmas would be the next morning, a day where more tales would be born from their visit.

Post a comment Tags: christmas, parents, holidays, church

Tree Follies

Happy Christmas.


Getting the tree was an adventure. I don't have a S.U.V. to transport the live tree. But we pick it up, and try and stuff it in the car's inside. It fits, except the trunk must stay open. It's a prodigious tree, after all.

The trunk has been well designed so that you won't drive with it unlatched. They've made it impossible to use rope or string to secure the trunk lid down: they want that sucker shut tight. I jerry-rigged something up with twine. It required holding-on tight from the passenger area. People driving around you, while transporting the tree, have no tolerance for observing the posted speed limits. They all want to drive around you, or beep you, or drive to speed past you in a second lane. Piss off!, I say, it's Christmas, and you could use a dose of tolerance.

Once the tree is home, it quickly makes its way inside due to my he-man strength. Phew. Done. Right?

No. Arguement unsues regarding whether or not it will have lights. Somehow, this decision is intimately tied to what's for dinner. "If we don't do lights, make minestrone. If we do, then we get a quick bite to eat outside."

"Ok, I think..." This decision takes us over 30 minutes to decide. Finally, lights and dinner out win.

We go to the wrong store to get lights. It was closed. Why we went there in the first place escapes understanding.

Then to Lowe's. No white lights, only colored ones.

Then to Home Depot. No better. Finally, we end of at Target. We get the micro-lights, in white. They had four boxes of 100 each. We buy 300.

Get home, start stringing them up. The second string blows up. The transformer you plug this into blew a fuse. I had to check the fuse box, then I ripped them all off the tree. Now they're going back to Target. And no lights, after all.

I would have enjoyed the Minestrone, after all.

Post a comment Tags: christmas